I wish I knew how to ever be proud of anything I’ve done. I woke up this morning thinking about every place I’ve missed the mark on my goals;
the kind of family I wanted to have
the person I wanted to marry
the degrees I wanted to get
the place I wanted to live
Now here’s the weird thing; I have other things to fill those slots. On paper, it should be lovely. Yet, my heart aches in the suspicion that I will never see satisfaction in this life.
It isn’t so much that not existing would be better, given that I wouldn’t experience it. The thing I wish I knew how to do was offline my personality, memories and hungers for long enough to hunt down the flaws. I’m constantly surrounded by people who tell me I make a difference, what do they see? Not what I see, a middle aged guy who talked a big game, but in reality was far less than anyone ever believed.
I’m so angry and frustrated either that this is the best I can do, or that my faking it and halfway doing is considered amazing by others. No one ever asks for more, and I’ve been looking for just such a person. I get praised for being sympathetic to people who have lost anything, but it seems so simple when for my entire life what I desire has been held out of reach. Sometimes I just want to shoot up some illicit substance…. it seems to do something for some people that I have been searching my whole life for such gratification.
2 comments
I’m constantly looking for something to make me feel fulfilled. Left unsatisfied with everything. After bouncing from job to job and new relationships, friendships, weed, even moving to a new state. It just seems like life isn’t enough. Nothing makes me happy or passionate. The only thing left is death.
Another question might be: Would these things really bring you joy? Would they really matter? If happiness is a state of mind, some hormones released because of some external factor, then do they really matter? If you get a family then a kid who dies 2 years later, would that really be better than no kid at all? Start popping them until one outlives you? Or one grows up and become the next serial killer? These are rhetorical questions so no need to answer.
We all die at some point and nothing we acquire during our existence can be carried over. Assuming that we go somewhere afterwards. Seems to me nothing really matters. Besides acting in a moral way toward others. So at least I do not feel like 100% total trash. More like 99% trash.